


Where the Sun Shines Through

by aquietdin



Series: Now to Be Beside You [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Learning How To Be In Love, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, mentions of past Lance/Allura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-12 08:23:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18007307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquietdin/pseuds/aquietdin
Summary: Being in love takes more work than Lance thought. The logistics of dating your best friend are complex, messy, and kind of amazing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to [Not Just Anyone.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635403)

Lance supposes they’re dating now.

It felt sort of strange to call it that, especially given how it happened. Sitting on a stiff excuse for a bed on a Marmora cruiser orbiting an alien planet, quietly agreeing that yes, we should do this. It was almost like they’d passed a note in class; _do you like me, y n?_

Keith had been talking to his mother for hours now. Or at least it felt that way, with nothing better to do but watch the planet below and pet Kosmo’s head. Lance was oddly anxious, bouncing one leg until the wolf gave him a growl and a gentle nip.

“Sorry, buddy,” He apologized, scratching behind his ears.

He’d at least gotten something to eat since then, some kind of dry, crumbly cake that wasn’t terribly satisfying but got his stomach to cease its grumbling. Lance honestly hadn’t thought far enough ahead to consider how Krolia would react to Keith wanting to leave for Earth. Her only son was a pivotal member of the Blades; he was the the one uniting factor that made it possible to transition the Galra empire into a republic. He was the linchpin, and without his leadership, they may have ended up facing down another intergalactic war. And Lance was asking him to leave it behind to be a _gardener._

Nervous tension crawled into his gut, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

He’d taken to scrolling through the photos on his tablet with one hand and gnawing on the cuticles of the other when Keith finally returned, looking worn out, his eyebrows pinched in irritation. He sat on the bed beside Lance and breathed a heavy sigh.

“How’d it go?”

Keith ran a hand through his hair. “About as well as I’d expect. They’re _not_ happy.”

Turning off his tablet and setting it aside, Lance put a hand on Keith’s back. “Sorry. I’m making this complicated.”

But Keith shook his head, turning to rest one leg on the mattress and face Lance. “No,” he said. “You’re not. Honestly, after the first few days in Cuba, I started trying to think of ways to stay. I _want_ to go home with you, Lance. It’s just… tricky when there isn’t someone to fill in for me.”

“Oh.”

Beside Lance, Kosmo huffed and crawled over his lap to Keith, who smiled and pet beneath his chin. It was adorable, Lance thought, even if he currently had a three hundred pound animal crushing his legs. “When do we head back?” Lance asked, trying to keep the wince out of his voice.

“Two quintents,” Keith answered, his eyes on Kosmo.

 

\-----

 

Two quintents seemed like a long time at first, but there were so many ends for Keith to tie up that he hardly slept in that time. Meetings, communications, schedule shifts. Quiet arguments that Lance tried not to listen to. Keith would return to the small room on the cruiser they occupied together for quick naps, then be called away. Exhaustion lined his face, under his eyes and in the tight set of his mouth.

By the time they were leaving - Lance with his small bag with two changes of clothes, Keith with a large duffel and Kosmo at his side - he could feel the tension on the ship. Krolia had come to see them off, hugging Keith tightly before turning to Lance.

“Take care of my son,” she told him, her voice gentle despite her hardened expression.

Keith didn’t relax until they were taking their seats in a private cabin on a massive cruiser bound for a wormhole. He set his duffel bag down and dropped into his seat, sighing loudly. Kosmo whined and set his chin on Keith’s thigh.

“You okay?” Lance asked him, taking the adjacent chair.

Keith hummed, letting his eyes slip closed. “That was more drama than I’d anticipated.”

Lance set his hand on top of Keith’s where it rested on the arm of his seat. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

Keith did just that.

 

\-----

 

Pidge and Matt were waiting for them when their transport landed at the Garrison. She barreled towards Keith, wrapping her skinny arms around his waist and squeezing hard enough to make him grunt. The top of her hair barely cleared his chest.

“What,” Lance teased. “No hugs for me?”

Pidge rolled her eyes and released Keith, punching Lance in the arm once before hugging him. “I saw you a month ago.”

They had dinner with the Holts, in their home just off the Garrison base. Colleen made a casserole full of mushrooms and lamb that had Keith closing his eyes and sighing around the first bite. Pidge talked non-stop about her most recent tech exploits, and Keith listened attentively, though Lance could see his eyes drooping before the meal was even done.

Plates cleared and in the dishwasher, they gathered in the family room and watched Bae Bae and Kosmo gently wrestle on the rug while Sam opened a bottle of red wine. Pidge was finally old enough to drink, accepting a glass and toasting to Keith, who flushed pink and sank into the couch with a grin. They traded stories until late into the night.

Keith fell asleep with his empty glass in his hand. Pidge took it away and put a blanket on him, bidding Lance goodnight before she left. In the dark of the Holt family living room, Lance coaxed Keith to lay down, stretching him out on the sofa where he was out again instantly.

 

\-----

 

Lance’s mother was running for them when they arrived back at the farm, sweeping both of them up into a fierce hug.

“Mom,” Lance grunted, though he smiled. “We were gone less than a week.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she cooed, cupping their cheeks in each of her hands. “I missed my boys.”

Inside the house, Keith set his duffel bag on the floor of the guest room. Kosmo quickly claimed the bed, sniffing at the sheets before settling himself in. Lance shook his head. How a giant, ferocious, _teleporting space wolf_ could still manage to look like a puppy was baffling.

“Is the rest of your stuff coming soon?” He asked Keith, motioning at the bag on the floor.

“Oh.” Keith rubbed the back of his neck. “No, this is it.”

Lance gaped. “Seriously?”

But Keith only shrugged, unbothered, removing his jacket to hang it over the footboard of the bed. “I’ve lived a pretty nomadic life with the Blades. No point in having stuff when you don’t really have a home.”

That made a hurt spring in Lance’s chest, dull and painful, crawling into his throat. He thought of his family, big and loud and so full of love. His home, the photos and trinkets and boxes of memories, faded sweaters in closets that no one had worn in years, weathered stuffed animals and old datapads. A kitchen overflowing with mismatched dishes, piles of laundry. Secret things hidden under beds and in dressers. The things that made a home, Keith had none of them.

“Well,” he said softly, carefully. “This can be your home now.”

Keith’s face softened, his eyebrows going up into his bangs, inhaling a tiny breath. His eyes went to the floor as he smiled.

“Thank you.”

 

\-----

 

For the first week they were back, Keith did little more than sleep.

Lance let him. Keith explained that the sleep he got while with the Blades was always light, restless. Ready to wake and fight at any time. Being on Earth was letting him sleep deeply for the first time in years, so Lance let him be. He would wake his friend for meals or to take a stroll in the garden, but otherwise Lance just let him snooze in his bed until the afternoon, fall asleep under trees, or take up the entire couch for hours. His mother quietly asked if Keith was sick.

“No, Mom,” Lance assured her. “He just has several years of catching up to do.”

 

On a Wednesday morning, Lance awoke at dawn like usual, stretching his arms above his head. He dressed for the gardens and left his room, noticing that the guest room door was open. He peeked inside to find it empty. Keith’s duffel bag was open, several items pulled out and set aside.

Lance shrugged and made his way to the north greenhouse. He spent a good hour taking samples of soil from the seedling flats for analysis, humming to himself as he worked. Satisfied and needing coffee, he began his trek back to his house. On the path there, he saw Keith approaching with Kosmo at his side. He was wearing sweatpants and a sleeveless gray shirt, his hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of his head, panting as he walked with his hands on his hips. He caught Lance’s eye and waved.

“You’re up early,” Lance commented. Keith nodded.

“Went for a run,” he explained, out of breath. Sweat ran down his face and neck, making his hair curl where it stuck to his skin. Lance tried not to stare.

“Done sleeping in, then?”

Keith wheezed out a laugh. “Just about. Go on ahead, I’ll be there in a bit.”

Lance left him in the yard and went to make coffee. He was finishing his first cup when Keith came in, a little less out of breath but still drenched.

“Have a good workout?”

Keith nodded. Lance eyed his arms, cords of perfectly toned muscle, broad and strong, with little lines of scars scattered across his skin. A far cry from the short, scrawny teenager he’d been eight years ago. Keith didn’t seem to notice Lance’s oggling, going for the shower and leaving Lance in the kitchen.

Dating.

He was _dating_ that.

Lance’s skin flashed hot.

They hadn’t discussed what exactly they were, where the lines had or hadn’t been drawn. Nothing had changed, at least at first glance. Except now when Lance looked at Keith, he seemed taller, like his energy couldn’t be contained within his body, spreading out to cover the room. It wasn’t entirely new, Keith had always been bigger than himself. What _was_ new was the way Lance found himself leaning in, trying to soak it up like he could get a contact high. Knowing that Keith wanted him had ignited something in Lance, heating his bones and seeping out into the tips of his fingers, tingling warm.

The feeling made him sort of giddy, but nervous. The man in his house was someone he treasured dearly and had for a long time, but this was all new territory, and the thought of stumbling and breaking what they had was a constant itch in the back of his mind.

They should probably talk about what this all meant, Lance decided.

 

\-----

 

The ‘talking about it’ didn’t happen for another week. They’d settled into a comfortable rhythm, with Keith and Kosmo rising before the sun to work out, meeting Lance for coffee. He looked alive, Lance thought, in a way he hadn’t seen Keith in a long time. He’d often thought that his old friend was made to be among the stars, the freedom of the endless abyss of space where he would thrive the most, as if all the planets in the universe were too small for such a wild, untamed thing. But here, in Lance’s tiny kitchen, with builder cabinets and scuffed floors and a sink that desperately needed a scrub, he could see Keith glowing. Like the earth had lit him from within.

“Something on your mind?” Keith asked him, his mug of coffee raised to his lips.

Lance blinked himself out of his daydream, raising his chin from where he’d been resting it on his hand. Keith was looking at him expectantly.

“You,” Lance confessed, sipping from his own mug and taking a small delight in how Keith’s cheeks darkened with a blush.

“I’m right here, Lance.” There was a laugh in his voice.

Setting down his coffee, Lance smiled. “I know. I like that you’re here.”

Keith’s smile was small and shy but it shone. This was how it had been since they returned from Bannuel - knowing glances, gentle conversations. Lance would find Keith’s eyes lingering on him, not looking away when he was caught. But that’s all it had been. And for all his years of claiming to be a heartbreaker, Lance was at a loss on how to continue the dance. He could hear the music, but didn’t know the steps.

“Hey, what are we?”

The question was far more blunt than he’d meant. Keith leaned back in his chair, blinking rapidly. “Um.”

“I-I mean,” Lance fumbled. “I just don’t know what I should call this.” He gestured at the space between their bodies.

Keith’s face seemed to fall a little, just barely. “Oh. I thought we were, um. Together?” He said the word like it was unfamiliar. “I mean,” Keith added softly, his eyes darting to the side. “If you wanted to be.”

Lance sat up straight, realizing his blunder. “Oh, no, no no no, that’s not what I meant-” He reached across the table and took one of Keith’s hands. “I said yes because I meant it, I just…” He swallowed hard, feeling a spike of anxiety hit his bloodstream. “I don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, so. Uh.”

Keith was just blinking at him and Lance wondered if embarrassment was a viable form of death. But then Keith smiled, maybe a little laughter to it, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I don’t either,” he answered, turning his hand over to press his palm to Lance’s. “Wanna figure it out as we go?”

The wash of relief was like a burst of sunshine, Keith’s tiny grin falling over him and making his cheeks warm. “Sure,” he answered. The hand that held his squeezed.


	2. Chapter 2

Lance could count three first kisses in his life.

The first two he barely remembered, some girl from his hometown confessing a crush before he left for the Garrison, and then a girl in his second year physics class that asked him to a movie, breaking up with him two months later without giving a reason.

Then there was Allura, beneath the tree in the park, the stars shining above them. He could feel her magic in that kiss, like she was surrounding him, a blanket of warmth and love that he could still feel under his skin if he concentrated. He didn’t think anything could ever compare.

They were watching tv. Nothing noteworthy, a rerun of a silly game show that Lance had seen at least twice, but it had Keith giggling softly as he nursed a glass of merlot. They’d opened the bottle hours ago at dinner and were slowly making their way through it, eventually settling into the sofa, pressed close together.  Keith’s hair tickled Lance’s chin from where he’d slumped into the cushions, leaning into Lance’s shoulder. It was rare to see him so relaxed, the line of his body not piano wire taut for once, his joints soft beneath the worn white button down that he’d pilfered from Lance’s closet. His hair cascaded down his shoulders, curling in the Caribbean humidity.

A commercial started to play, and Keith settled even further into the couch with a sigh, sipping from his glass. He looked nice like that, the cool light from the tv and a warmer tone from a nearby lamp reflecting off his smooth skin, the long point of his scar a dusty pink. He looked up at Lance, questioning in his eyes. Keith was so, so pretty.

He didn’t really think about it before he did it, leaning down to gently press his mouth to Keith’s. It was a tiny thing, chaste and gentle, but he felt Keith inhale a sharp breath at the contact.

When Lance pulled back, Keith’s violet eyes were sparkling as he gave a shy smile, a blush creeping up his face. Lance nuzzled his face into Keith’s hair and sighed, a soft, happy feeling settling into his ribs.

 

——-

 

Their dynamic changed. It wasn’t a bad thing, not in the slightest, even if Lance spent most of his waking moments with a jitter in his veins, his stomach fluttering just enough to notice. A little thrill ran through him whenever Keith was close.

He liked it. A lot.

The lingering gazes they would trade intensified, something low and feral simmering in Keith’s eyes that made Lance’s pulse thump. Small touches, hands clasped on top of the dinner table, fingers curled around shoulders, the tiny kiss that Keith would press into Lance’s temple when he said good morning. The way Lance felt his blood pressure spike when he caught glimpses of Keith’s perfectly chiseled body when he’d walk from the shower to his room without a shirt, or the delicate press of their lips together with slowly growing intensity, each one lasting just a little longer than the one before. The sound of Keith’s gentle sigh when Lance would rake his nails through his hair and over his scalp was something he’d started looking forward to.

It was all so soft, like their days together, slowly stretching into weeks. Lance was filled with a buzzing anticipation, always wondering when it would escalate, if Keith would put more force into his next kiss or dare to press their bodies together. It was heady and made him hot under his skin, deliciously dizzying. Like a secret game of cat and mouse, though he couldn’t tell which one of them was the predator and which was the prey.

He came in from the farm one afternoon, sweaty and tired after the sudden rain halted his progress. Lance was peeling out of his wet shirt and shoes at the door when he heard humming from the kitchen, accompanied by clinking porcelain. Peering around the corner, Lance spotted Keith at the kitchen sink, washing dishes; but the first thing he noticed was how Keith’s long hair was pulled up high instead of his usual low ponytail, looped through an elastic band to make a messy bun at the crown of his head. It left the back of his neck exposed, accentuated even more by the low cut of his tank top.

The skin of Keith’s neck looked so nice, smooth and supple, with little whisps of dark hair that the bun didn’t catch falling around the sides. There were two freckles over the knot of his spine, side by side. Lance’s mouth went dry, a hunger swirling in his belly and his blood turning hot and slow in his veins.

He went to Keith before he registered it, reaching out to touch his shoulders. Keith stopped humming but was otherwise unbothered, setting a clean plate into the drying rack beside the sink. He’d likely known Lance was there the whole time, his instincts still razor sharp. Lance stared at the freckles, one a little darker than the other, standing out stark against the pale of Keith’s skin. Something surged in his gut, swooping low and making his breath come short. Dipping his head, Lance pressed his lips against them.

Beneath him, Keith inhaled slow, his hands stilling in the sink. Lance kissed his neck again, higher, letting his lips drag. Keith smelled so good, bowing his head forward under the weight of Lance’s mouth, his hands gripping the edge of the sink. Two kisses became three, then four. Just beyond the window, rain poured down, a buzz that filled the room.

“Lance,” came the strained whisper. Keith was trembling, the dishes ignored as Lance let his tongue dart out to taste, dragging out a tiny gasp that he felt as much as he heard.

The sound set Lance’s blood on fire, turning Keith around by his shoulders and crowding him against the counter top. Keith’s eyes were wide, pupils blown out as his gaze flicked up and down Lance’s bare torso.

Lance heard a low growl as he mashed their lips together, only barely recognizing the voice as his own. Keith let out a whimper, bringing wet, sudsy hands up to cradle Lance’s jaw. He kissed Keith with ferocity, the way he’d seen it happening in his secret fantasies, sliding their tongues together and pushing until they were nearly bent over the sink.

The fact that his fantasies usually had their roles reversed was a minor technicality that Lance couldn’t be bothered by at the moment.

He could feel Keith’s heartbeat where their chests were pressed tight, thudding against his ribs as his fingers threaded into Lance’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer as Lance canted his hips forward. Keith let out a sharp moan and Lance swallowed it down like he was starved for it.

Outside, thunder crashed, so loud and sudden that it shook the house around them. Lance jerked backwards like he’d been struck, his heart hammering in his throat. Another flash of lightning, followed by a low rumble, and he let out a shaky breath.

“Shit,” he muttered, putting his palm over his racing heart. “Holy shit. That scared the hell outta me.”

He turned to see Keith at the sink, slumped against the counter, his face brilliant red as he panted for air. Their eyes locked and Lance saw a fire there that he hadn’t seen before, Keith’s wolf like gaze unabashedly hungry.

Looking down at himself, Lance became hyper aware of his body - he was sweaty, dirty, itchy, covered in grime and rain water and hadn’t bathed since yesterday and hadn’t brushed his teeth since that morning’s coffee and - oh god, he probably smelled _terrible_. Horror was rising in him as he took a step back, holding his hands up in front of his chest.

“Ugh, sorry, I’m super gross,” he said, voice cracking as he motioned at himself. “I’m gonna go get a shower.”

At the sink, Keith was slowly recovering, rising to his full height and brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. He looked at Lance, his tongue darting out to sweep over his lip. “I don’t mind,” he said, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Lance smiled at him and retreated to the bathroom, letting the water run a little colder than usual to clear his head.

 

——-

 

As Lance rose with the sun one quiet morning, he stretched, sighing, then stopped to listen. Murmuring was coming through the wall, loud enough to identify the voice as Keith’s, but too quiet to make out the words.

Grimacing, he crawled out of bed and dressed as silently as he could. They were still at it.

One of the apparent ‘terms’ of Keith leaving for earth was that he would occasionally handle Marmora business remotely, joining in on discussions or negotiations via quantum comm. They’d spent an afternoon rearranging Lance’s office to suit the need, carefully constructing a backdrop for calls that would look less like a farmhouse and more like a professional setting. A round of negotiations had begun with some far-flung planet for resources, and Krolia had called on Keith to assist.

The only issue was that the discussion began at eleven o’clock the previous night. And nearly eight hours later, he could still hear tense voices coming over the comms.

Pocketing his tablet, Lance brushed his teeth and headed for the garden with Kosmo trotting at his side, doing a visual inspection of the juniberries. They’d soaked up the rain from last week with gusto, the petals gleaming in the early morning light. It would save Lance hours worth of watering. Sometimes, he thought he could feel them through Allura’s markings, thrumming with life around him.

From his pocket, his tablet pinged, and he took it out to check.

_Keith [07:18]: coffee pleas im dying_

With a tiny, sympathetic laugh, he quickly went back to the house, going in the back door and making a beeline for the coffee maker. Keith had downed two cups last night before his meeting began, and that dose of caffeine had to be long gone by now.

Mug in hand, steaming and with a tiny splash of cream, Lance crept to the office and opened the door as slowly and carefully as possible. Inside, Keith was dressed in his full Marmora garb, arms crossed over his chest and his gaze focused and intense. From where the comms were situated away from the door, Lance couldn’t see all the faces that Keith was speaking to, but there were at least four of them, each in different windows. He slid along the wall to stay out of sight, softly setting the mug on the desk.

Keith turned his head just barely, locking eyes and giving Lance a small nod of thanks.

 

It was another three hours until Keith came out of the office, looking pale and pinched, rubbing at his temples. From his seat on the couch, Lance watched as he unceremoniously stripped off the outer layers of his outfit as he entered the room, letting the sashes and armor fall to the floor and leaving them behind. Down to his bodysuit, Keith said nothing as he practically fell into the sofa, his head dropping into Lance’s lap with a grunt.

Lance pet his hair, pulling it away from his eyes and combing through it slowly. Keith sighed, curling in on himself.

“You okay?”

A tired groan was the only answer he got. Lance laughed softly.

“That good, huh?” He raked his nails along the back of Keith’s neck. “Rest, then we can eat.”

Keith snuggled further into Lance’s lap, heaving a deep, heavy breath. Lance took the opportunity to admire the curve of Keith’s spine and the cut of his hip, plainly visible through the skin tight fabric.

 

\-----

 

Lance had always been athletic, strong and fast. A runner and a swimmer for most of his life, he’d never gained the bulk that his father had, his frame remaining slender no matter how much he worked out. He’d spent the last half of his teenage years hiding his lanky form under loose jeans and a long jacket, but since then, he’d learned to accept his body, growing into his long limbs and filling out into something he was proud of.

Lance was nothing like Keith. Whether it was his Galra genes or otherwise, his old friend had grown into a human wall of solid muscle, tall and toned, every dip and plane of his form impressive. And Lance as glad for it, the contrast of their bodies making them fit together so wonderfully - like how they were now, chest to chest, with Keith’s considerable weight pressing Lance into the sofa, kissing him soft and slow.

It was far more pleasant than he’d ever thought having nearly two hundred pounds on top of him would be.

Keith had coaxed him to the couch with gentle, sweet kisses, and Lance had been helpless to resist. With a hot palm sliding under the hem of his shirt and resting against his hip, he was putty in Keith’s hands as he laid him down and settled the length of his body to fit against him. It felt nice, secure and warm, like he was completely safe beneath Keith’s pulse as they kissed and kissed, still able to feel the smile that Keith kept even as his tongue rolled in Lance’s mouth. He could stay here forever, under this heat, with one of Keith’s strong thighs pressing between his own.

But.

With a small laugh, Lance broke away. “Keith,” he breathed. “We’re supposed to-“ his voice cut off as a pair of hot, wet lips moved to his neck, mouthing at the skin below his jaw. Lance’s thoughts scattered.

“Hmm?” Keith hummed, right next to his ear, making Lance shiver.

“We’re supposed to - to be at my parents’ for dinner in like five minutes… _oh_.” Keith found a sensitive spot near the hollow of his collarbone and nibbled at it.

“We can be fashionably late,” Keith murmured, dragging his teeth to scrape gently against Lance’s adams apple. It sent a hot bolt of want racing down his spine, skin prickling up in a sea of goosebumps.

Lance held in a moan, just barely. “Veronica is in town,” he tried. “She’d never - _hah_ \- never let us hear the end of it.”

Moving back up his neck with more wet kisses, Keith brought his eyes level with Lance’s and stared into them, smoldering despite his cheeky grin. “Alright,” he whispered against Lance’s lips. “Only if we can take a rain check and continue this later.”

Lance pecked his mouth and grinned. “Yessir.”

Keith pulled himself off of Lance with a grunt, sitting at the other end of the couch, his hands rising to smooth down his hair. For a moment Lance didn’t move, wanting to spend just a few more seconds riding the high of their makeout session. He finally sighed and hauled himself up, his heart still running at a rabbit’s pace.

“Jeeze, you’re too good at that,” he said. “Where did you learn to be such a Romeo? I thought you’d never done this.”

One of Keith’s eyebrows arched high. “When did I say that?”

Lance ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “A while ago? You said you didn’t have any experience with this kinda thing either.”

Keith’s eyebrows cinched together for a moment, then his face went strangely blank, his blush quickly draining away.

“I…” He swallowed hard, his voice low. “I was talking about being in a _relationship,_ not—“ He stopped short, and a tense silence descended.

It took Lance’s brain a second for the words to register. “...Oh.” His face was suddenly hot again, but for a very different reason than it had been a few minutes ago. “ _Oh_.”

Keith was giving him a look, tight and searching. “Shit,” he muttered slowly. “You’ve never…?”

The soft, happy mood they’d built up while kissing evaporated, leaving the room cold. Lance stared at the couch cushion below his leg. Nervous sweat itched at him suddenly.

“I..” he cleared his throat. “There was only ever really Allura, and we never…” he finished the sentence with a vague wave of his hand.

Across the couch, Keith had gone pale, staring at Lance with something that bordered on horror. “Shit,” he said again. “Shit, Lance, I’m sorry, I - I’ll slow down, I didn’t know—“

The urge to run practically smacked Lance in the face, burning with embarrassment at his gross naivety. To think, even for a minute, that Keith - beautiful, strong, capable Keith who practically oozed sex appeal - wouldn’t have had lovers in the _six years_ they spent apart? Lance quietly wished the couch would swallow him.

Keith was rubbing his palms together slowly. He glanced up, looking small and withdrawn. “Does it bother you?”

Lance blinked. He didn’t have an answer to that question, not really, not with Keith looking at him like that. Like he’d broken a vase or something.

His tablet pinged from the kitchen table, startling them both. Lance saw his escape route.

“Um.” Lance bit his lip. “Can we… talk about this later? We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

Keith nodded slowly. “Sure.”

They left the house and began the walk to the other side of the farm, side by side, though there was a space between them. It was tense and cold and Lance hated it, hated how scared he was to reach out to Keith -- it was stupid, like reliving teenage angst. He was too old for this.

“You okay?” Keith asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

Lance sighed, the sound coming out more frustrated than he’d wanted. “I’ll be fine, really. Just gimme a bit to think.”

Keith nodded and said nothing more as they continued along the garden path, passing through the field of juniberries. He felt so dumb. It shouldn’t bother him, it _shouldn’t,_ but it made him feel childish and small, knowing he’d made such an assumption. Keith very much knew what he was doing and Lance very much did _not_. Overwhelming embarrassment pressed against his skin; and deep down, a quiet voice whispering that he couldn’t possibly be good enough, not for someone like Keith, who could have anyone in the universe. Lance mentally kicked himself all the way to his parents’ house, where Veronica practically tackled him, ruffling his hair.

“How’s my favorite little bro?”

“Ronnie,” Lance laughed, looping his arms around her waist and pulling her into a fierce hug. She let him go and gave Keith a far more reserved embrace.

Dinner was a nice distraction, Lance’s mother breaking out her oldest, most complicated recipes for Veronica’s visit. Nadia and Sylvio had to be restrained from starting a food fight, and between that and Veronica’s prodding, Lance had his hands full. Keith was smiling and laughing, but Lance could see the tension in his shoulders, the crease between his eyebrows that almost disappeared behind his hair. He would catch Lance’s eye, then look away quickly.

After the meal, Luis and Rachel drew the short straws for dish duty while Lance’s father made a round of cocktails. Lance took his glass of rum and champagne and retreated to the herb garden just down from the back deck, admiring how well the sweet basil was flourishing in its new home.

“Sulking doesn't suit you.”

Turning, Lance spotted Veronica coming down the path towards him, sipping from her own glass. She was wearing a knowing smile.

“I’m not sulking,” Lance countered. Veronica rolled her eyes.

“Oh _please_ ,” she raised her glass. “So you and Keith not being able to make eye contact without one of you looking like a kicked puppy is just a coincidence?”

Lance sipped his drink. “It really would kill you to not be nosy for one day, wouldn’t it?”

Veronica heaved a sigh and stepped into his space, swinging an arm around Lance’s shoulders. “It would, yes.” She sipped from her glass, glancing back at the house. “So. _Keith_. You broken off a piece of that yet?”

Lance squawked, jerking away from his sister as heat flooded his cheeks. He dared to look to the living room window, where Keith was chatting with Marco, Nadia sitting by his side. He looked so at home with Lance’s family that his chest felt tight. Like he _was_ home, here in Cuba, like he belonged here and always had.

“Holy hell.” Veronica’s voice brought him back to the present, his sister’s eyes wide. “You _have_.”

Lance wanted to _die_. Veronica was breaking into the biggest shit eating grin he’d ever seen, and he needed to stop her train of thought right now.

“It just happened like a month ago,” Lance kept his voice low. “Okay? We’re still figuring it out, so just… just lay off.”

He turned from her, staring at the rows of spearmint and chives that lined the garden. Veronica was quiet for a spell.

“You guys get in a fight?”

Lance didn’t look up. “What makes you think that?”

“Um, the whole ‘avoiding eye contact’ all through dinner?”

He sighed, finishing the last of his drink. “We’ll be fine. Just… had an awkward conversation earlier today.”

Veronica bumped his shoulder. “About what?”

“Jeeze,” Irritation was rising in Lance. “Let it go, Ronnie. It’s none of your business.”

She raised one eyebrow. “So it was about sex.”

Lance crumpled, resting his hands on his knees and praying a sudden bolt of lightning would fall out of the sky and put him out of his misery. “Oh my _god_ , Veronica.”

She only laughed, ruffling his hair. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” Veronica went silent for a long moment. “You told Mom and Dad yet?”

Lance blinked. He _hadn’t_. “Uh. Not really.”

Veronica patted his back. “Well, hang in there, Lance. We’re rooting for you.”

Her words didn’t bring him much peace, so Lance returned to the kitchen for another drink.

 

——-

 

He might have had one too many.

It was well after dark, Nadia and Sylvio having been put to bed hours ago, with Rachel, Luis, and Lisa following close behind. Lance was slumping in his Dad’s easy chair, playing with his empty glass as Keith told a story about one of his Marmora exploits. Lance was only half following, drifting in and out of consciousness. Keith’s voice was so disarming, the low, airy rumble drifting over the room like a blanket that made Lance so, so warm.

Lance heard his name and perked up. Keith was looking at him with a wry smile, setting his glass aside and moving towards the chair Lance was currently welded to.

“Yeah,” he was saying. “I’ll take him back. C’mon, Lance,” Keith was suddenly so very close. “Time for bed.”

“Hmmm.” Lance let himself be hoisted from the chair and nearly thrown over Keith’s broad shoulder.

He tried to walk as they left his parents’ house and went down the path that led back to his own, but he was so sleepy and his legs were so heavy. But Keith held him up easily, a strong arm around his waist.

Then they were in the house, Kosmo giving a whine as Lance felt his backside hit his bed. He was too warm. Why was it so warm in here?

“Okay, okay,” Keith sighed, then he was pulling Lance’s shirt over his head. The cool air of the room felt good on his flushed skin, his head swimming. Keith was moving away, and Lance felt so lonely, reaching for him.

“Hey, hey,” Lance tugged at the sleeve of Keith’s jacket. “Don’t go.” He was fading, tipping backwards until he met the sheets. “Stay here.”

The room was falling away as the mattress dipped beside him, a heat settling along his side, accompanied by a familiar scent. It was his favorite smell, like fire, hot and deep. Lance turned into it as the world went dark.

 

—-

 

Christ, everything hurt.

Lance tried to move and immediately regretted it. His head throbbed, his mouth was dry and he felt sticky all over, his very bones sore. There was light coming in his window and he very much wanted it to sod off and leave him be, let him wither and die in peace.

The bed shifted underneath his cheek, rising and falling, and Lance’s eyes snapped open as he realized it was not his bed that he was resting on, that was a shirt and underneath it was a chest and it there was most definitely a person in his bed. His head jerked up and a wave of pain overtook him, making him squeeze his eyes shut.

“Whoa, easy,” someone said. “You had a lot to drink last night.”

The throbbing subsided enough for Lance to see straight, and he opened his eyes to find Keith, splayed out on Lance’s mattress like he lived there, his hair pooled on the pillow and his red shirt sporting a wet spot where Lance’s face had just been.

“Um. What?” he asked, his brain struggling to get out of first gear. “What are you doing here?”

Keith pouted a little. “You asked me to stay.”

“I did?” Lance was drawing a blank, everything after his fourth glass one big haze.

Keith was pulling himself up, propping up on his elbows to look down at Lance. “Yeah, you got pretty drunk. I almost had to carry you back.”

Lance rubbed at his face, his skin greasy. It felt like he was sweating rum, every muscle protesting as he rolled off of Keith and sat up. He felt the bed beside him dip and rise, then the floorboards creaking. What time was it?

A hand grabbed his, pressing a glass into it. “Here,” Keith’s voice came from somewhere above him. “Drink.”

It was water, blessedly cool against his ravaged throat as he gulped it down. For just a moment, it felt like it was all about to come back up, but his stomach settled. Keith was standing beside the bed, petting Lance’s hair in a slow, easy rhythm, and the sensation helped quell the aching in his head. His vision cleared enough for him to look down at himself.

“Where’s my shirt?” He hadn’t remembered undressing.

Keith moved to the end of the bed, picking up a rumpled pile of cloth. His shirt, Lance realized. “You kept complaining that you were too warm,” Keith explained.

With a groan, Lance rested his forehead in his palm. “Ugh, sorry, dude. Didn’t mean to get smashed last night.”

Keith laughed softly. “It’s fine, you didn’t do anything embarrassing.” He went to leave the room, looking back at Lance. “Get a shower, you’ll feel better.”

Once alone in his room, Lance drummed his fingers against the empty water glass that Keith had brought him. Tiny snippets of memories were starting to surface; his conversation with Veronica, drinks, Keith all but carrying him home. He smiled despite himself and hauled his hungover ass out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom. He’d have to thank Keith later.

  
\-----

 

Warm ocean air pushed against Lance as he sat on the sand, crossing his legs and leaning into it. After spending most of the day nursing his aching head, it felt nice to be back to normal again. Keith had brought him a light lunch, mostly his mother’s leftovers from dinner last night, planting a gentle kiss in top of Lance’s head as he accepted the plate.

Keith sat next to him, Kosmo on his other side, digging his bare feet into the sand a little. The tense words they’d exchanged on the couch the day before was hanging over Lance like a wet towel.

“So,” Lance began, dread gnawing at him but knowing he couldn’t put off this conversation forever. “About that super awkward thing that happened yesterday.”

He heard Keith laugh softly. “You sure know how to set a mood.”

“Oh yeah, you know me.” Lance picked at a nail, lowering his voice. “What was it like out there, with the Blades?”

“Tense,” came the reply after a moment of silence. “Stressful. You’re sort of always ready for a fight. Everyone finds ways to cope.”

Lance nodded, feeling a little numb. “Gotta take the edge off somehow, huh?” He didn’t need to give context.

Keith seemed to fidget for a bit, going quiet for a spell. “None of it meant anything. It was just… stress relief.”

Shrugging, Lance watched the ocean, the breeze off the water cooling where the sun was baking his skin between tufts of clouds. The initial unease he’d felt the day before was already dissolving, making him wonder why he’d even cared. He felt better already. A thought bubbled up, and he couldn’t hide the tiny uptick of his lips.

“I had a crush on you back at the Garrison,” Lance confessed.

He could _feel_ Keith’s shock and almost laughed.

“Are you serious?” Keith asked, and the way his voice cracked on the last word made Lance actually chuckle.

“Oh yeah,” Lance drew a little pattern in the sand with his index finger. “That whole ‘rivalry’ thing? Started because I liked you and wanted to get your attention.”

Keith’s silence was, for some reason, absolutely hilarious. His jaw was working, eyes wide and searching. “You--” He cut himself off, jaw clicking shut before trying again. “You never said anything.”

Wiping the sand drawing away, Lance shrugged one shoulder. “In my defense, I was fourteen. Kids that age aren’t exactly known for stellar decision making skills, least of all _me._ ” When Keith didn’t respond, he continued, heat rushing to his face. “You were just so… cool. A once in a generation pilot. I wanted to get to know you, but you never talked to anyone but Shiro.”

Keith was just blinking at him. Then he smiled, letting himself fall backwards onto the sand and putting a hand over his eyes. “Oh my god, Lance.” He giggled. “Oh my god.”

“What’s so funny?” Lance shifted back, propping himself up on one elbow.

Laughing again, Keith let his arm flop against the beach. “I just can’t believe that. I was so far up my own ass back then, I barely knew you existed.” He turned to look at Lance, something sweet and maybe a little sad in his eyes. “We could have been friends if I wasn’t such a little shit.”

Lance hummed. He didn’t know the finer details of Keith’s teenage life, but he knew it had been hard and lonely. “You had your own stuff to deal with, it’s fine.”

One of Keith’s hands searched the sand and Lance took it, winding their fingers together. A thought hit him, a reminder of the last conversation they’d had on the beach.

“What about you?” He asked Keith, who raised an eyebrow at him. “You said that you’ve liked me for a long time. Since when?”

Then Keith blushed, cheeks flushing pink as he stared up at the clouds. “It was…” He stopped, swallowing. “It was after we lost Shiro. You gave me that pep talk about piloting the Black Lion.”

Lance gaped, his jaw going slack. That was over six years ago. Eight if you counted the two years Keith spent in the quantum abyss.

“That long?” He asked, his voice so tiny.

Keith sat back up, the white sand glittering in his hair and on the back of his shirt. “I’d never seen that side of you before. I figured we were going to be at each other’s throats our whole lives, but…” He sighed. “You were so amazing in that moment. I could never look at you the same way after that.”

Lance wanted to point out that Keith never said anything either, but he stopped himself. He knew why, Allura’s smile flashing in his memory. Lance only had eyes for her for the longest time, and everyone knew it. He hauled himself up off the sand and scooted over until his hips met Keith’s. “We’re idiots,” he said, leaning onto Keith’s warm shoulder.

A strong arm coiled around his back and pulled him closer. “Yeah,” Keith laughed. “Yeah we are.”

They stayed like that until the sky bled orange and their stomachs growled. Together they stood, brushing the sand from their clothing and hair, Lance taking extra delight in how Keith let him take his long ponytail down and comb through the strands with his fingers. They stood hand in hand on the beach, staring at each other, and Lance felt something soft prickling at the corner of his eyes, ghosting over his marks.

As they walked back to Lance’s car, something occurred to Lance, hearing Veronica’s voice in his mind. “Hey,” he asked, his voice shy. “Have you told anyone about us?”

Keith stopped, his eyebrows shooting up into his bangs. “Um. Not really? I mean, my mom knows, but…”

Taking his keys out of his pocket, Lance nodded. “Veronica figured us out, but other that that…” He flushed hot, realizing how that sounds. “It’s not like I’m trying to hide it!” Lance put up his hands, grimacing. “It just hasn’t really come up, and--”

Keith was scratching at the back of his neck. “I was sort of keeping it to myself,” he said, his voice low. “In case you changed your mind.”

The words hit Lance like ice water as he saw how Keith withdrew into himself, and he was rounding the car to press himself into him before he knew what he was doing. Had Keith really just spent the last month waiting for the other shoe to drop? He’d become such a fixture in Lance’s life - in his kitchen, in the gardens, eating all his eggs and taking up the entire couch and leaving his wet towels on the floor, and Lance loved it, how full his house was now. How the scent of Keith’s shampoo would linger in the bathroom, the sight of his shoes in the entryway, the imported beer that started showing up in the door of the fridge. Kosmo’s blue fur all over his furniture. He tried to think about a life without Keith, and it cut him, his chest aching. His heart wouldn’t have it, rejecting the notion outright as he wormed himself further into Keith’s heat.

Keith hesitated for a second before holding Lance close, tucking his nose into the skin below Lance’s ear. In return Lance gripped at his shirt, pushing his body as close as he could get, feeling Keith lean against the side of the car for support.

“Never,” he murmured against Keith’s neck. “Never _ever._ ”

Keith squeezed him until his ribs protested.

 

It was well after dark when they returned to the house, Kosmo going straight for his favorite spot on the rug by the kitchen window. They stood side by side at the bathroom sink brushing their teeth, and Lance was struck by the odd intimacy of it, of their comfortable domesticity. He glanced over at Keith, admiring his strong profile even as toothpaste foamed at the corners of his mouth.

Keith left as Lance washed his face and put on his nighttime moisturizer. Skincare taken care of, he made a final check of the house, switching off the lights as he went. Down the hall, the door to Keith’s room was open, his old friend sitting on the twin bed with his tablet in hand, in his sleep pants and a red tank top and dark hair shining in the lamp light.

Despite his hangover that morning, it had felt good to wake up next to Keith, to his smell and warmth. Lance wanted that again, maybe this time without the rum.

“Hey,” he said quietly , standing outside the guest room door. “Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?”

Keith looked up without raising his head, surprise painted on every feature. He set his tablet aside slowly.

“Do _you_ want me to?”

Lance bit his lip, shifting his weight. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d slept in close quarters, but that was when they were traveling through the universe and had few other options. Things were very different now, their proximity carrying a whole new world of weight to it.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I do.”

Keith smiled so soft, turning off his tablet and setting it on the bedside table before switching off the light.

Lance was glad to have a queen size bed, giving Keith enough room to settle into one side without it being too awkward. Before he turned off the light, Lance gathered his courage and removed his shirt, settling under the sheets.

He turned onto his side and saw Keith, laying on his back with his hair pooling on the pillow, his fair skin glowing in the moonlight that shone through the window.

“Goodnight,” Keith’s whispered.

The hand that was closest to Lance was palm up on the sheets, and Lance reached over to tuck his pinky beneath Keith’s thumb. “Night.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has been increased because smut ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Also very small blood warning.

Lance woke up in Keith’s arms.

Blinking himself awake, he registered that he was pinned on one side and he was surrounded by heat. As his senses came online, he felt the bicep that was slung over his shoulder, his face pressed tight against a throat. Lance inhaled deeply. Keith’s scent filled him, made his head swim as he kissed Keith’s adam’s apple. Stubble scraped his lips, light and soft.

Keith stirred, sighing against Lance’s scalp and tightening his arms. He pulled away, staring down at Lance with sleep in his eyes and sheet prints on his face, hair tangled and chin scruffy. Lance smiled wide. Keith was  _ gorgeous. _

They brushed their teeth side by side again, and afterwards Lance went to make breakfast while Keith shaved. Cracking an egg into a hot frying pan, Lance thought that this must be what happiness is. Keith came up behind him, looping one arm around Lance’s hip and pressing his lips into the soft of Lance’s cheek.

“Morning,” the word was muffled against his face. Lance giggled, leaning into it.

They ate in companionable silence, sipping coffee and munching on ham and eggs. Lance finished first, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

“So I was thinking,” he began. Keith froze, but Lance flashed him a smile. “We’re gonna see everyone in two weeks, right? Want to tell them about us then?”

Keith chewed his food, considering. “That sounds alright to me.”

Smiling, Lance drank the last of his coffee. Two weeks. Two weeks until team Voltron gathered at the Garrison to welcome Hunk home after a long trip into the deep reaches of space. Two weeks until they’d all be together again. He could hardly wait.

 

——-

 

Lance breathed deep, savoring the rich air around him. Altea. He knew this place, the safety and familiarity. The landscape was endless and wide, juniberry petals filling the sky. So peaceful here, nothing could ever be wrong.

He was too warm. Altea shifted, the green fields darkening as the sun burned the sky, turning red, bathing the land in shadow. He felt fear, prickling sharp at his mind, pressing against his skin - but then the fire above him reached out, circling him, the hold hot but not hurting, tight but comforting. It wrapped around him like arms, endless in number and shockingly gentle, fitting against his clothes and seeping under his skin. It swirled around him, forming into a heat at his back, pressing against him and molding to fit, from his legs to his back, making him shudder. The fire caressed his stomach, dipping lower and it should have hurt, should have burned him, he should have burst into flames but it was safe, a seeping pleasure washing over him.

He gasped for air and it was sweet in his lungs, like breathing in the richest wine as he was pressed into the earth. The fire at his back whispered into his ear and he couldn’t understand but he  _ loved _ , so much, the thick, heavy want crawling into his mouth and singing against his skin.

The earth beneath him smoothed, soil changing to cloth. Altea faded into walls, floors, a window with faded curtains. Blinking, Lance shivered as the last bits of the dream fell away, the pillow under his cheek soft.

He was basking in the memory when something shifted against his stomach, making his muscles jump and tense. Reality bled back in and he recognized a hand, hot palm and five fingers dancing over his belly, pressing in.

Then he felt the heat at his back, a heavy weight that pressed him down into the mattress. Turning his head to glance back, Lance could just barely see in the darkness, but at the edge of his vision was a lock of dark hair, a curl falling over his shoulder.

Keith.

Lance smiled. He’d discovered, through sharing a bed, that Keith was quite the cuddler in his sleep, often coiling himself next to or even around Lance. He knew Keith’s childhood had been difficult - he hadn’t had a place to go when nightmares would come, no family to sooth away his fear when his mind refused to quiet. It seemed that he was making up for lost time now, using Lance as a personal pillow most nights. It wasn’t unwelcome, even if the way Keith gave off heat would often make Lance kick away the sheets.

Snuggling his face into his pillow, Lance made to return to his dream, happily nestled under Keith’s body. Then the hand at his stomach moved, dragging downwards. Lance’s eyes snapped open, any last remnants of sleep immediately crumbling.

Awareness of his surroundings sharpened, the shape of Keith’s form, his chest pressed close against Lance’s back, molding himself to fit in every way. He shivered again, feeling the fabric of Keith’s sleep shirt shift against his spine as he breathed. Lance had gone to sleep without a shirt as he always did, but now Keith’s proximity made him feel vulnerable in a way that made his pulse quicken, heat flooding his cheeks. He bit down on his bottom lip, savoring the feeling. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t imagined a similar scenario once or twice when he was alone in the shower.

With a murmur Keith rubbed his face against the back of Lance’s neck, sending a wave of sensation zinging down his spine, with the soft scratch of stubble. It was followed by a low growl, Keith pressing his hips down against Lance and then he felt it, the hard line of Keith’s cock, nestled snugly into the line of his ass. Lance shuddered, feeling the heat in his belly shift lower, pooling between his thighs.

He was dizzy with anticipation, Keith’s hand on his stomach sliding down to ghost over the front of Lance’s pants where he was quickly growing hard. Lance couldn’t stop the gasp that tore from his throat as strong fingers traced over him through the fabric.

Keith’s whole body rolled against him, murmuring again, breathing deep. Then he stilled, going rigid where he was draped over Lance. Several tense moments passed.

“Oh shit,” Keith breathed. Slowly, the hand at Lance’s groin began to retreat, trembling slightly.

Immediately Lance missed the heat, the gentle pleasure. He didn’t want Keith to move, he wanted him here, wanted his hands on him, all over. As Keith freed his arm, Lance reached down to grasp his wrist.

He felt the breath hitch in Keith’s chest. Opening one eye, Lance looked over his shoulder at Keith, his dark eyes wide and wild.

“Don’t stop,” Lance whispered, surprised at the desire so plain in his voice.

Keith stared at him. “Lance,” his voice was strained. “I didn’t mean to-“

With a tug, Lance pulled Keith’s hand back to his stomach, guiding his fingers to slip beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. He pushed his hips backwards, pressing against Keith, reveling in the startled gasp it produced.

“Don’t stop,” Lance repeated. “ _ Please _ .”

Keith’s fingers dipped, hovering just above where Lance wanted them. “You sure?”

Biting down on his lower lip, Lance nodded fervently. Keith was still for another moment, then he stretched his arm, his fingers brushing firmly over Lance’s aching cock.

He  _ moaned _ , the sound low and desperate, pleasure sparking through his body as Keith repeated the action, curling his fingers around Lance’s length through his boxers. He shook with the force of the sensation, inexperience combined with the desire that had been simmering below his skin for the last month leaving him hypersensitive and eager.

Keith was grinding down against him, slow and gentle, his cock sliding against Lance in a maddening rhythm through layers of fabric. Lance gripped at the sheets as fingers squeezed around him, making his hips buck of their own accord.

“ _ Keith _ ,” he gasped, his voice wrecked and thin. Then a mouth was on the back of his neck, nipping softly, leaving wet marks that were cool against the night air. Keith was stroking him and canting his hips in time and it was torture, how sweet and slow he moved. Lance was utterly at his mercy and the thought made him shiver, eyes rolling back as the realization hit him, how much he loved this lack of control.

It was good, so good, but he wanted more. He wanted the heat of skin, the slide of Keith’s sweat slick palm against him. Lance let go of the sheet and reached for the waistband of his pants, pushing them down, hooking a thumb under the hem of his boxers to take them down too.

“Lance?” Keith asked, his voice unsteady.

He managed to get his clothes low enough on one side, his other arm pinned and useless. “More,” he begged. “Keith, please-“

A hot palm slid over his other hip, catching on his clothes and dragging them down, his pants and boxers slipping over the curve of his ass. Keith tugged him free and Lance felt exposed in a way that only excited him further. Calloused fingers grabbed at him, squeezing the flesh where his thigh met his rear possessively, and Lance moaned again.

“Lance,” Keith groaned, his voice tight and low. “Can I…?”

“ _ Anything _ ,” he answered, not caring what the question was, his mind too clouded. “Yes, anything,  _ Keith _ -“

Both hands left him and Lance felt cold, shivering as Keith’s heat left his back. He wanted to cry out for him to come back, then he heard shuffling fabric. From the corner of his eye, something hit the floor beside the bed. A shirt.

Keith returned, draping his body over Lance, the skin of his chest damp with sweat and searing against Lance’s spine. And against his ass, a cock, hard and hot, slipping gently between his cheeks. Lance gasped loudly, ending the sound on a reedy groan.

Keith’s voice was next to his ear. “This okay?” He was asking, but Lance just wanted him to move, desperate for more contact, more friction. More.

“Yes.” He didn’t so much say the word as it was punched out of him. Keith’s hand returned to grip Lance’s cock, stroking so soft and making him mewl pitifully. Lance didn’t recognize his own voice, these gasps and moans that escaped him - but Keith was growling in his ear, so close, mouthing at his neck and worrying his earlobe between sharp teeth. Keith’s cock was sliding against him, smearing wetness against his flesh, making Lance push back to meet him, twisting and writhing against the sheets as he was pinned down. It all felt so good, amazing, how could just grinding together feel so good?

The head of Keith’s cock caught against his asshole, stuttering, making him jump at the sudden bolt of pleasure. So good. He’d let Keith do anything to him,  _ anything _ , so long as he didn’t stop.

“Oh  _ god _ ,” Lance gasped as Keith did something with his foreskin that made stars explode behind his eyes. His whole body was like an exposed nerve, shaking and overstimulated and  _ alive _ as Keith pumped his fist faster. He couldn’t last like this, it was too much, he would catch fire and die. “Keith,” it was like a prayer. “Keith-“

The hand around him twisted, teeth scraping against his neck and Lance  _ broke _ , all the air leaving his lungs in a rush as his voice cracked around a sharp moan. Every part of him burned, so bright with pleasure that his eyes stung as Keith stroked him hard, squeezing, wringing him dry until he whimpered. Lance gulped down air as he was released, his skin singing.

Keith was still grinding against him, hard enough to hurt, puffing hot breaths against his shoulder as his hips snapped forwards at a brutal pace. Lance reached back with his free hand, groping blindly until he caught hold of a thigh, pulling Keith impossibly tighter against him.

“Come on,” he urged Keith. “Come-“

The next thrust forced Lance into the mattress, pressing him against the puddle he’d made as Keith snarled, his teeth breaking the soft skin between Lance’s shoulder and neck as he came and came. Wet heat dripped down the inside of Lance’s thighs and on to the bed below as Keith gripped his waist hard enough to bruise, his whole body shuddering violently.

The teeth at his shoulder came loose, making Lance hiss against the sting as Keith sagged at his back, panting for air.

His nerves began to quiet, adrenaline ebbing away into quiet euphoria as he caught his breath. Lance started to become aware of his body, all the places he’d feel later, the bruises he’d surely find in the morning. He’d have to go about his day like that, some far off part of his mind realized - marked up and sore as hell.

_ Worth it,  _ he thought with a grin.

Keith rose, propping himself up. Turning to see him, Lance was drawn into a kiss, deep and fierce, Keith giving just as hard as he had moments ago. Would it be like this every time? God, he hoped so. It was like Keith was endless, so much to give and Lance wanted it, wanted to be selfish and soak it all up for himself.

Keith drew back, their lips separating with a smack. “You okay?” He asked, a hand coming up to card through Lance’s sweat damp hair.

He was  _ not _ okay, he was so far beyond it. It felt like every nerve was vibrating, humming, his whole body tingling warm from his ears to the bottoms of his feet. He felt  _ amazing _ .

“Yeah,” Lance answered, his brain effectively firing on a single cylinder.

He could see Keith smiling, even in the darkness, and Lance shuffled to turn over and face him, run a hand through his long hair. If he could live in one moment forever, Lance thought this wouldn’t be a bad one to pick.

Keith abruptly froze, inhaling. Before Lance could ask what was wrong, the lamp turned on beside them, Keith’s arm outstretched towards it.

“Oh shit,” Keith breathed, his expression alarmed. “Lance, I’m so sorry—“

“Huh?” Sleepy, glowing contentment was clinging to his mind stubbornly, making it hard to keep up. “For what?” He hoped it wasn’t for the sex they’d just had, because he could definitely do with a repeat of that sometime in the future.

“Your shoulder,” Keith answered, his eyes focused just to the side. “You’re bleeding.”

Lance reached up to touch at where Keith was looking, hissing as a sharp throb came from next to his neck. His fingers had a tiny smear of red against them when he pulled his hand back.

Oh, right. Keith had bit him.

“It’s okay,” he said automatically. “I’m fine.”

Keith was still looking at him with horror, sliding out of the bed and hauling his pants and underwear up. “Stay there, I’ll - I’ll get you something.”

Keith’s left before Lance could say anything else, rushing out and leaving the bedroom door open. Still feeling pleasantly woozy, Lance picked up his tablet from the bedside table to check the time. It was just past four in the morning.

He let the tablet fall back and sighed, shifting; wetness squelched between his legs, still trapped together by his boxers and sleep pants. He was filthy, his stomach smeared with come, the sheet beneath him wet, even more between his thighs, dripping over his hips and down his ass.  _ Keith’s _ , he realized, feeling another spike of want under his skin, something low and possessive rumbling in him. There was  _ so much _ of it, making Lance hot all over.

Keith returned, looking a little pale, sitting on the bed beside Lance and emptying his arms. A towel, tissues, bandages, antiseptic ointment. A bottle of water.

“Let me see,” he motioned for Lance’s shoulder, who sat up obediently. Keith’s cleaned the wound with the tissues, taping an ointment covered gauze square over it. Already the sting was fading.

“Here,” Keith cracked open the water bottle. “Drink this.”

He did as he was told, not minding how Keith used the towel to clean him up, wiping at his stomach, cock, and thighs, even his ass. Lanced pulled his boxers and sleep pants the rest of the way off and kicked them to the floor, not seeing the point in keeping them and well beyond being bothered by his own nakedness.

Keith tossed the towel aside. He was staring at where his fists were clenched on top of his knees.

“Sorry,” he said, and Lance was really starting to hate hearing that word from him. “Didn’t mean to be so rough, I just…”

Lance handed him the water bottle, finally feeling a little more lucid. “Don’t be,” he said, laying back and smiling. “That was incredible.”

Keith glanced at him, his eyes apologetic as he took a swig of water. He looked away, going quiet.

“I wanted that to be different. Nicer.” His voice was hushed. “Dinner and flowers. Not - not dry humping in the middle of the night because I was having a dirty dream.”

Oh. That  _ had _ been their first time together, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Fatigue was eating at him, making him yawn and settle back against his pillow. “You can do dinner and flowers next time.”

Keith looked torn. “Lance—“

“ _ Keith _ ,” he cut him off. “Quit it. That was awesome and I loved every second of it. Now get back in bed, the sun doesn’t even come up for another two hours.”

Keith paused, searching his face, but then stood and went to his side of the bed, stopping to strip off his sleep pants. Lance got a nice view of the tight boxer briefs that hugged his contours before he slid under the sheet, settling onto his side.

Flicking off the light, Lance rolled away from the wet spot and snuggled into Keith’s broad chest, content as a cat. A strong arm wrapped around him, drawing him close, his face peppered with gentle kisses as he faded into sleep.

 

\-----

 

Lance stared at the bite mark on his shoulder in the bathroom mirror, eyeing the imprint of Keith’s teeth around a blossoming purple. He touched the wound, wincing a little. The bruise on his waist was plainly visible, finger shaped marks that dug into the soft skin above his hip. The base of his spine sported a dull ache.

The memory of Keith against his back flooded his vision and Lance shivered, smiling. Worth it, worth it. Maybe not all the time, but he had to admit, there was something breathtaking about Keith when he was forceful, the thought sending a strange thrill through Lance that made him pause and tremble with delight.

He was doing all kinds of learning about himself lately.

He put on a crew neck shirt that hid the evidence of their night and made his way to the farm for the morning’s work. Keith had left for his workout twenty minutes ago, but not before fretting and fussing over Lance like a mother hen. To have seen such a raw and hungry side of Keith and then immediately be treated to such tenderness made Lance’s heart feel light. It was so endearing, and so exciting to know both of those sides of his old friend. Lover. Boyfriend? The word didn’t quite feel right, like it wasn’t enough.

Lance rolled his eyes at himself, tugging on his work boots and heading out the door.

 

——-

 

The two weeks until the reunion of the Voltron team was both the longest and shortest time frame Lance had ever experienced. He and Keith continued their easy life together, eating meals, doing chores. Keith came to bed with Lance every night, kissing him softly and pulling Lance into his arms, cradling him, showering him with affection that was unlike anything Lance had ever known.

It was addicting, the soft drag of Keith’s lips against his skin, whispers in his ear, calloused hands sliding up his back. Keith seemed to be holding back, handling Lance like he was spun sugar, delicate and fragile. He’d have to find some way to convince him that he wasn’t made of glass, but for now, it was nice. Lance wasn’t used to being treated with such care.

It was mid afternoon on a sunny day when he felt it, reverberating through the soil and thrumming against the marks under his eyes. Allura’s magic hummed under his skin as he looked out to the juniberry fields, swaths of fuchsia that were glittering in the sunshine. It was time for the blossoms to shed their first petals, an event he wouldn’t miss for the world.

He was halfway down the path when it occurred to him that Keith had never seen this. And Lance wanted him to see it. With him. He was bolting back towards the house in an instant.

“Keith!” He shouted, rushing inside. The sound of a book hitting the floor came from the office, followed by Keith’s footsteps thumping across the floor.

“Lance?” Keith rounded the corner, alarm written all over his face. Lance almost laughed, grabbing Keith’s wrist and practically yanking him out the door.

“Come on,” he called over his shoulder. “It’s about to start!”

He broke into a jog as they hit the path that led to the garden. Keith made a confused sound, but kept pace. “What’s about to start?”

Lance was too giddy to say more, wanting it to be a surprise, like it had been for him the first time. With Keith’s wrist in his hand, together they ran to the center of the juniberry field, stopping at the top of the hill. Panting, he grinned wide at Keith, who was glancing around as he caught his breath.

“Lance,” Keith’s hair whipped around his face in the wind. “What’s going on—“ He stopped short, eyes widening as they met Lance’s. “-Your marks are glowing.”

He didn’t need to be told, he could feel them, see the light on the edge of his vision. Around them, the juniberries shimmered, but Lance kept his eyes on Keith, wanting to catalog his reaction.

With a burst of what he could only describe as  _ life _ , the blossoms around them exploded, their brilliant petals flowing upwards into the wind. Keith gasped, turning in all directions as a dense sea of pink surrounded them, the air thick with the bright scent of the flowers. Lance could feel it, in his marks and in his blood, echoing through every part of him. The whole world seemed to sparkle as the petals ascended into the sky, carried on the breeze.

The last of the flowers floated away, fading into the blue sky.

“Wow,” Keith said, though it was little more than a breath. He looked so beautiful then, his long, dark hair shining and tossed in the breeze, the flush on his cheeks from the sudden run, eyes glittering with wonder. His chest swelled as Keith smiled at him, brighter than the sun. Keith, who went from a crush to a rival to a friend, then family, and now here in his home, offering to stay by his side. Keith who looked a Lance like the stars lived within him, who treasured him. Who lifted him up and slotted himself into Lance’s heart, healing and filling a void that he hadn’t entirely realized was there. Keith, who Lance could no longer imagine himself without.

“I love you.”

The words fell from Lance’s lips and they felt so right, his heart singing as wide violet eyes stared at him, unblinking. Keith froze, then inhaled a tiny breath and surged forward, cupping Lance’s jaw with both hands and kissing him with such passion that Lance felt his toes curl inside his shoes. He kissed Lance again and again, his lips curving into a smile as he pulled away.

“I love  _ you, _ ” Keith breathed into the space between them. “So much, Lance, God,  _ I love you _ .”

Lance kissed him, holding the wrists that cradled his face and laughing. A surge of joy echoed through every part of him as he was gathered up into Keith’s strong arms and held tight.

 

——-

 

The trip to the Holt family home was full of buzzing excitement. Keith held his hand through the flight, disengaging when they landed. Lance wanted to surprise their friends - he wasn’t sure why, but he loved the idea of it being their secret.

Sam and Pidge were at the Garrison tarmac to greet them, exchanging hugs and claps on the back. They went inside to a lounge area to wait for Shiro and Hunk to arrive.

Shiro’s flight from Toronto got in barely fifteen minutes before the cruiser that carried Hunk. On the tarmac under the blistering desert sun, the five original Paladins gathered together, arms circling and pressing close. Lance’s forehead rested against Shiro’s neck, with Pidge pressed against his chest, Hunk and Keith on either side, noses against either cheek. He’d missed this so, so much.

Sam and Coleen welcomed them with enough food for a small army, Hunk commenting that as much as he loved cooking, it was nice to be served once in a while. Through the afternoon they ate, laughed, talked. Pidge scolded Keith for giving Bae Bae table scraps before slipping the pit bull a slice of beef from her own plate. Lance admired his second family, how Hunk had gone from soft-faced into sharp and solid, how Shiro had only grown more handsome as the laugh lines appeared around his eyes. Pidge’s red hair was longer now, but still just as unruly as ever, her cheeks still round and boyish. Lance just barely managed not to stare at Keith, sitting across the dinner table, somehow even more breathtaking than ever.

As daylight faded, they moved into the guest house, where rooms were prepared for them. Hunk produced a bottle of fine Altean wine and passed each of them a glass as they settled into the couches in the living room. Lance took a seat next to Keith, careful to leave a bit of space between them so he didn’t give them both away.

“Alright,” Pidge cleared her throat. “Who has news to share?”

The ‘sharing hour,’ as Lance had come to call it in his mind, had become one of their traditions. Saving the most important news for when they were face to face, letting them all celebrate, laugh, or cry together. It gave them more reasons to see each other, spend time in each other’s company.

“I’ve got something,” Shiro began. “It’s sort of big.”

They leaned forward as one, hanging on Shiro’s words.

With his left hand, Shiro straightened his glasses and rubbed the back of his neck. “Curtis and I… are going to start a family.”

There was about a second of stunned silence before the room erupted in cheers. Hunk was the closest to Shiro and quickly swept him into a hug.

“Wow,” Pidge wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Kids. That’s amazing, Shiro!”

“From space dad to actual dad!” Lance laughed.

“Thanks,” Shiro grunted as Hunk released him. “We’re still in the preliminary stages, but Curtis and I are in contact with Sister Elizabeth’s Home for Children.” Lance heard a breath from Keith as Shiro looks pointedly his way. “We figured that was a good place to start. It’s where I found my brother, after all.”

When Lance looked at Keith, his eyes were shining with tears as he smiled wide. “Thank you,” his voice was soft. “That means a lot to me, Shiro.”

“Okay, so I know we all wanna dogpile Shiro for a group hug,” Hunk gestured at them all. “But before that, does anyone have anything else they want to share?”

They all went around a few more times, though it all seemed like small news that Lance had mostly heard. Hunk had discovered that many vegetable species that were thought to be lost during the ten thousand year war had survived on other planets, allowing him to help recovering civilizations recreate the food of their heritage. Chip, Pidge’s robotic companion, was continuing to learn and grow.

“So Keith,” Shiro said, setting his empty wine glass aside. “I hear you’re living in Cuba.”

Keith nodded, his poker face flawless as he played innocent. “Lance is letting me stay with him for now.”

“That’s very kind of you, Lance,” Shiro commented.

Lance shrugged, finishing his wine and putting his empty glass next to Shiro’s. “He’s not the  _ worst _ roommate I’ve ever had.” Snickers arose, with Hunk muttering a small “wait, was that a dig at me?”

“Is that everything?”

It was  _ so _ hard not to look at Keith as Lance leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ve got some news.”

A few eyebrows went up as all eyes went to Lance. Time to test his acting skills.

“I’m seeing someone.”

Hunk gasped, Pidge let out a squawk. It wasn’t far from what he’d been expecting for a reaction; They all knew he’d been single since Allura, the loss of her leaving an imprint on his soul. Shiro smiled, the picture of patience. “That’s wonderful, Lance.”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on.” Hunk was pulling his tablet from his pocket. “I’m going to need a name, address, passport, favorite color—“

“Hunk,” Shiro laughed.

Hunk pouted, gesturing at Lance. “What? This is my best friend we’re talking about. I need details!”

“Why,” Pidge snorted crossing her legs and leaning back. “To make sure his new sweetheart passes the ‘friend test’ or whatever?”

“Yes!” Hunk threw up his arms. “That’s a thing! That’s important!”

He could see Keith’s head shaking in his peripheral. Leaning back, Lance couldn’t stop the smug grin that crept onto his face. “Don’t think you’re gonna have to worry about that, man.”

“Alright, Lance.” There was laughter in Shiro’s voice. “Out with it. Who finally won you over?”

“Well.” Lance paused, then carefully reached into the space between himself and Keith, picking up his hand and threading their fingers together, slowly and deliberately raising them to his lips to kiss Keith’s knuckles. He gazed at Keith through his eyelashes, loving the pink flush that crept up his cheeks as those incredible violet eyes twinkled at him, full of adoration.

Hunk’s tablet clattered to the floor. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

Pidge was shaking, her head ducked. Then she threw herself back into her chair, laughing. “I knew it! I  _ knew it! _ You owe me fifty bucks, Hunk!”

Keith’s face went into indignant shock immediately as Hunk clasped his hands together, smiling wide at them. “Finally, oh man,  _ finally. _ ”

Lance’s face went hot as Pidge continued laughing and Hunk looked ready to cry. He knew what Hunk meant by ‘finally,’ seeing as he was the only person in the world that he told about his secret crush on Keith.  _ Pidge, _ however, he would have to have a talk with. Shiro cleared his throat loudly to bring them all back to reality.

“I’m happy for you two,” Shiro stood. “We’re all happy for you.”

Pidge nodded in agreement as Hunk leaped from his seat, his eyes shining. “Can we hug now? Please? I can’t take any more of this, I need a hug.”

They came together, even closer than they’d been on the tarmac at the Garrison. Keith pressed a kiss into Lance’s temple, and he could feel his marks humming with warmth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! You can find my vld and klance art [on tumblr](https://somekindoftuber.tumblr.com/) :D

After two days with his old friends, they said goodbye and parted ways once more. Hunk scooped Lance up into his arms and held him close while Keith lingered on a tight hug with Shiro, the two of them whispering and laughing quietly at some shared secret.

On their flight back to Cuba, Keith held Lance’s hand.

And when they walked to his parent’s house, he kept holding it, lacing their fingers as Lance told his parents that he and Keith were a couple.

“ _ Mijo, _ ” Lance’s mother beamed, hugging them both.

A bottle of champagne was opened as they all prepared dinner together, Keith’s eyebrows knit in tight focus as Lance’s mother showed him how to pinch dough together to seal the lumpy, misshapen empanada in his hand. Lance leaned on his chin and watched, enamored, giggling a little as Keith stuck out his tongue in concentration.

He never stopped smiling, all through dinner, catching Keith’s eye from time to time.

After dinner and drinks and strawberry cheesecake, they went to the yard where Lance and his father sang as his mother played her guitar. Keith was glowing, his empty dessert plate in one hand and the other curled against his cheek where he leaned.

_ “ _ _ El cariño que te tengo, yo no lo puedo negar,” _ Lance sang out, winking at Keith. And when his voice was too tired to keep singing, they danced, Lance’s parents serenading them as they swayed together under the moonlight, barefoot on the grass. Lance laughed with Keith as he missed steps, Keith ducking his head to hide his red cheeks.

 

They walked back to the bungalow under the stars, Keith’s arm wrapped tight around Lance’s waist, keeping their hips together. As the slipped inside the front entrance, Lance barely had the lock turned before Keith was on him, pressed against his back and pushing him into the door. He let out a gasp as lips found his earlobe.

“You tired?” Keith’s husky voice was in his ear. Lance shivered and grinned.

“Not at all.”

They didn’t walk towards the bedroom so much as stumble, hands slipping under clothes and lips on skin. Keith backed Lance against the hallway wall, kissing him deeply. Two strong hands slipped behind Lance’s thighs, hoisting him into the air as though he weighed nothing, his back scraping against the drywall behind him. Keith pushed his hips forward and trapped him there, Lance having no choice but to wrap his legs around Keith’s waist, gasping harshly.

Lance was faced with a wolfish grin, Keith crowding into his space. And  _ god, _ that was - it lit him up to be faced with Keith’s impressive strength, pinned, the hands that gripped his legs burning hot.

_ “Keith,”  _ Lance said, though it came out more like a breathy whimper. A mouth was on his neck, kissing, nipping, making Lance tremble all over, tilting his head to expose more of his throat.

A tongue left a searing trail along his jugular, then lips grazed the shell of his ear. “Do you have any idea,” Keith’s voice was low and sweet, “What you  _ do _ to me?”

Lance’s legs tightened, squeezing around Keith’s middle. “I may have some inclination,” he answered, unable to stop the tremor in his voice. “But maybe you should educate me.”

Instead of responding, Keith shifted his grip to Lance’s backside and lifted him from the wall, turning to carry him the rest of the way to the bedroom, leaving Lance to wonder if Keith knew he was fulfilling one of his fantasies.

The door to their shared room clicked shut and Lance found himself lowered gently onto the bed, the action punctuated by a kiss that sent his thoughts scattering. The mattress dipped as Keith’s weight pressed into him, his hips settling between Lance’s legs. He was burning hot, the thick bulge at the front of Keith’s jeans pressing against the inside of his thigh and making Lance groan softly.

Fingers were at the buttons on his shirt, easing them through the fabric to expose his chest. Keith was moving slowly, deliberately, locking eyes with Lance as if to ask permission. Lips followed his hands, kissing a wet trail down his breastbone. The shirt parted and hot, calloused hands swept up his torso, Lance inhaling a long breath as he arched into the touch. Keith was still working the clothing off his shoulders and down his arms when Lance was pawing at Keith’s cotton shirt, grabbing at the hem. He wanted  _ skin. _

Keith sat up and tossed Lance’s shirt aside, then reached behind his shoulders to pull his own over his head, letting it drop to the floor as his hair came loose. And it almost wasn’t fair how stunning he was, his taut stomach and perfect chest, stained pink by the flush that crept down from his face.

With a wolfish grin Keith descended upon him again, and the feeling of their bare chests sliding together was maddening, Lance biting his lip on a moan and tilting his head back. Keith pawed at him, strong fingers squeezing at his hips, flicking thumbs over his nipples as his mouth wandered lower and lower, kissing, sucking into Lance’s skin. He rolled his hips upward in a plea, achingly hard.

“Keith,” he begged, his voice wrecked.  _ “Keith--” _

The button on his jeans popped open and then those hands were pulling them down, sliding them over his hips and- 

“Oh shit,” Lace gasped as Keith lowered his face to mouth at his cock where it strained against the front of his boxers. He shook, Keith’s hot breath ghosting over him, a shock wave of sensation as a tongue and teeth grazed the fabric.

Lance looked down at him, raising a hand to brush the dark bangs from his face. Keith caught his gaze and, with the tiniest hint of a grin, peeled back the hem of his boxers and licked a stripe up his cock as it sprang free. His eyes glinted, raising his head to take Lance into his mouth and slide down.

Lance’s spine ached with how hard his back arched, bending impossibly far as a ragged cry tore from his throat. Keith sucked and bobbed and Lance shuddered all over, his breathing short and fast. It was almost too much, too hot, too fast. “Shit,” he gasped. “Oh  _ shit, _ ah,  _ Keith _ …!”

Keith released him with a wet pop and Lance felt his back hit the bed, panting, spots dancing in his vision. He dimly registered the rest of his clothes being pulled away, the sound of a belt buckle and rusting fabric.

Reality was coming back to Lance when Keith draped his body over him again, his comforting weight settling against, skin on skin. Keith kissed him deep and slow and Lance thought he could taste himself on his tongue, Keith’s cock resting in the junction of his hip. Their bodies rolled together, rubbing, softly grinding as Keith moved from Lance’s mouth to his neck to leave a trail of bruises along his throat.

“Lance,” Keith’s voice was muffled against his pulse, just beneath his ear. He gave Lance’s earlobe one last nip before moving up to face him, his pupils blown wide. “Do you have any lube?”

Lance swallowed hard as his entire brain blue-screened briefly. “Uh. No?”

Keith bit his bottom lip for just a second, then pressed a kiss to Lance’s mouth. “Stay here,” he whispered, then crawled off of him and left the room.

Lance barely moved after Keith was gone, his body missing the heat and weight as he tried to process what was happening. He didn’t get far before Keith returned, closing the door behind him. Lance inhaled sharply at the sight - Keith, gloriously naked, stalking towards the bed, his dick jutting out from his hips and oh  _ shit, _ he was  _ huge. _ He held Lance’s gaze as he crawled over him, hovering in the space between Lance’s thighs. He flicked open the bottle in his right hand with his thumb.

“What are you gonna do to me?” Lance asked, his voice small, unable to tell if it was fear or excitement that made his pulse quicken. Maybe a little of both.

Keith paused, lowering his hand. “Something you’ll like. But,” his eyes went misty. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile at Keith’s tenderness, even now, as he drizzled lube into the palm of his left hand. He used that hand to grip at the base of Lance’s cock, sweeping upwards. Lance keened, the glide slick and wet, making his skin prickle all over. Keith stroked him slow and gentle, his hand sliding down to cup his balls once or twice. He paused, and Lance opened the eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed to see Keith palming himself, the head of his dick shiny with lube.

Then Keith lowered his hips and pressed their cocks together, stroking them both, and Lance completely short circuited.

“Oh my god,” Lance wheezed, his eyes rolling back. Keith lowered his weight on top of him again, his lips returning to Lance’s neck. He rolled his hips, sliding them together where they were trapped wet between their bellies and it was good, so good. Lance was wrapping his legs around Keith’s waist before he realized it.

Keith murmured something into his ear and then braced his hip, gently turning them over so that Lance rested against his sweat-damp chest, straddling him. Hands were on his ass, squeezing, caressing - then slick fingers slid down between his cheeks, skating over his asshole and pressing behind his balls.

Lance jerked and froze.

Keith seemed to freeze as well, his fingers stilling. “Is this okay?”

Was it? He didn’t know. He could barely think. “D-do it again,” he whispered.

Keith obliged him, sweeping his fingertips back up the crack of his ass and down again, pressing into a spot that made him jolt, his body flashing hot.

“Yeah,” he groaned. “Yeah, that’s good.”

Keith made a smug little sound, pressing a lingering kiss against Lance’s cheek. Then he started moving, rolling his hips, fingers rubbing and pressing against him, sending waves of hot pleasure zinging up his spine. Lance had touched himself there once, curious, but it hadn’t done anything for him, so he never tried again. It wasn’t like this, the slide of Keith’s strong, rough fingers that dared to dip teasingly inside him, just the tiniest bit, before moving lower to rub behind his balls. A second set of fingers joined in and Lance was gone, a shudder working up his spine as Keith toyed with him. It was so slow, so gentle, the rhythmic upward thrust of Keith’s hips making their cocks slide together as his hands moved in time. Lance shook, it was maddening, so sweet and hot, hot,  _ hot, _ dropping his head against Keith’s sweaty shoulder with a pitiful moan.

“Oh god,” he whined. Lance was helpless, overloaded and keyed up as Keith’s lips returned to his neck. Every inch of him was buzzing, singing with sensation. There was no way he could last like this.

“Keith,” he gasped, then lost control of his mouth entirely, his brain disconnecting. “Keith, oh god, oh god, Keith, t-that’s so— _ oh _ , oh  _ god _ —“ hips were rolling faster, more urgent, his whole body canting upwards with the movement and Lance felt like he might break apart, crumble into dust all over Keith’s chest. “Keith,  _ Keith, _ I can't— I’m close, so  _ close, _ ‘m gonna—  _ oh _ —-“

He tried to stop it, tried to hold out but it was a futile effort with Keith all over him, around him, everywhere. Lance sucked in a breath so harsh that it hurt his throat as the crest of sensation washed over him, so bright and burning. He came and came, waves of pleasure wringing through him, over and over, pushing broken moans past his lips as Keith kept moving, kept thrusting against him.

Lance was fading but Keith wasn’t slowing down, snapping his hips and wrapping his arms around him. Hissing, Lance gasped for air; it was too much,  _ too much, _ too sensitive in the aftermath, his cock throbbing and overstimulated and it almost hurt, clawing at Keith’s shoulders and silently begging him to  _ stop, please, it’s too much— _

Then Keith arched, his head thumping back against the pillow as he snarled, holding Lance so tight and pumping his hips. Wet heat flooded between them as he lifted them both off the bed with the rise of his body.

Keith’s thighs shook as He lowered them down, slumping against the mattress with a grunt. Lance gave one last shaky moan and went boneless, dropping his forehead to the pillow, breathing hard. The scent of Keith was all around him, his sweat, the tang of his skin that Lance had come to recognize. Come to love. He snuggled closer with the tiny shred of strength he had left.

One of Keith’s hands was skating up and down his spine, caressing him so softly. Lips on his jaw, gently coaxing Lance back to him. Reality bled in and Lance hefted himself up on his elbows, his arms trembling with exertion. Keith stared up at him, those stunning eyes shining, hair plastered to his face and cheeks flushed a deep red. Lance kissed him and it felt so right and so good, he imagined he would float away if not for the arms looped around him.

Keith kissed him again and again, soft and sweet, a tiny huff of euphoric laughter rising between them.

“You okay?” Keith asked. Lance giggled.

“I’m  _ awesome,” _ he replied, grinning ear to ear.

It wasn’t easy but he sat up, unsteady, gazing down at where Keith was catching his breath. Between them was so much come, smeared all over Keith’s stomach, dripping down his sides along the grooves of his muscles. Lance gulped. If he wasn’t so spent, it would have gotten him going all over again. He carefully filed the image away for later use.

“Shower?” Keith was asking.

Lance nodded. “Definitely.”

He almost couldn’t walk to the bathroom on his own, his jelly legs wobbling as Keith held him steady. They stepped under the spray of water, Lance letting himself drift as Keith washed his hair and body, pampering him, kissing every inch of his face.

It was late and Lance was so, so sleepy, but between the two of them they managed to wrestle a clean sheet onto the mattress before turning in, coiled close together. Lance fell asleep to the sound of Keith’s breathing, nestling his face into the slow and steady rise of Keith’s chest.

 

\-----

 

The week of the reunion and memorial came, and Lance found himself on a cruiser bound for Altea, Keith at his side.

The journey had gotten easier as the years passed. Those first few months afterwards had been so, so hard. He struggled to sleep, to eat. To breathe. It was like someone had reached into his chest and ripped out half his organs and he was left trying desperately to hold in what little was left. The first time Lance stood beneath her statue after a year of separation, he broke down, the pain of the loss of Allura springing fresh and bloody.

With time, he healed. With every juniberry that blossomed, every new structure that went up as Earth slowly rebuilt, every time he saw a smiling Altean. He had come to understand her decision. Respect it. To know that if he had been in her place, if it was _ his  _ life he could give in exchange for the whole universe - he would have done so without hesitation.

“Hi, Allura.”

Lance stood beneath her statue, her smiling face. If he concentrated, he could still remember the smell of her hair. The juniberries reminded him of it.

Lance opened the box he’d brought, taking out the bouquet and setting it at the foot of Allura’s memorial. The new Altea was flooded with juniberries, the species saved from extinction, but these blossoms were different. These Lance grew himself on Earth, dug the soil, held the seedlings in his bare fingers and coaxed them to grow with his voice. Gathered the most beautiful blossoms and placed them in a stasis container to survive the journey across space.

With a sigh he took a seat on the ledge, the flowers safely tucked against her right leg. He was alone - Keith had stayed behind to chat with Coran. He knew Lance wanted privacy right now, that he needed it. But this time, it was different - the ache in his chest had subsided, even here, faced so plainly with her death.

“I miss you,” Lance whispered. “I always do. But I think -” He paused, searching for the words. “I think I’m happy, now. It’s been a long time.”

He tells Allura about Keith. About their mission together and Keith coming to live in his home. Lance felt so light, something soft and airy bubbling inside his chest. His marks hummed.

“I love him,” Lance breathes, then laughs. “So much.”

When Keith comes an hour later to collect him, Lance smiles wide and lets himself fall into Keith’s arms.

 

\-----

 

A year passes. Lance didn’t think it was possible to be this happy, this fulfilled.

Nearly every morning he was kissed awake, Keith’s gentle caress on his skin, rousing him before he and Kosmo go for their early run. They visited the Holts, the Garrison, Shiro’s home in Toronto to meet his and Curtis’ daughter. Sometimes Keith is away, visiting his mother or taking care of urgent Blade business. They talked over the quantum comms, hushed whispers, secret jokes. It makes it that much sweeter when Keith returns, sweeping Lance into his embrace.

They learned each other. The little things, the way Keith will chew his lip when he’s unsure, the way he almost purrs when Lance runs fingers over his scalp. They way they argue, sharp words snapping across the room until one or both of them stomps off, only to come back an hour later with flowers or food and an apology, and Lance knows he could never stay angry. He learned Keith cannot cook to save his life but has a beautiful singing voice, and is ticklish but only on his right side. The long nights spent in their bed, sheets soaked with sweat, where Lance learned the sound Keith will make when his hair is tugged, learns a new kind of blissful exhaustion as Keith makes him come again and again before they both collapse.

It’s a year later when Lance takes Keith by the hand and leads him up to the hill to watch the juniberries shed their petals. A year later that Lance turns to Keith, watching where the sun shines through his hair and reflects in the blue-violet of his eyes, takes the ring from his pocket, and drops to one knee.

Keith’s eyes filled with tears as Lance slipped the ring, made from luxite and silver, onto his finger. And all at once, everything he’d ever wanted was there, in his arms, holding tight.

 

.


End file.
